


The Fairy Tale Ending

by WesternRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Azkaban, Character Death, Fate & Destiny, First Love, Horror, Immortal Harry, Immortality, Love, One Shot, Other, Sad, Slice of Life, Time - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-23 04:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WesternRose/pseuds/WesternRose
Summary: They told me that I would never receive the Kiss. I believed them. I didn't deserve an end so… easy.They lied.





	The Fairy Tale Ending

...

So, they're waiting for my fears, my tears, and all that's dark and never clear. They're waiting for the breaking point in my aching heart. My tears: stollen. My life: crushed. They're cruel, and I hate them. They are straight from Hell, and they know it, too. The creatures suck souls because maybe they know they'll never get love from anyone except those they consider tools. I hate them.

It's been weeks, maybe, and I'm starting to feel weak. My shoulders are slimming, my hair is thinning, and they and they're brothers think they're funny. Nobody's laughing. Well, I'm lying about that. The guards outside my cell cackled at the spells tainting my body; the same body that's transforming into a hollow shell.

I forget things. My parents: whose image has only ever been a dream is now fading like my will to live. The cage is damp. The musky odor hovering from the walls and floors is that of carpets soaked by mold. The floors are nothing but layers of grime, blood, and dusk. The air is either dustbowl dry or chokingly humid; there is no in-between. The light that makes its way passed the heavy, depressing clouds is meager and pitiful. I wish that I wasn't so weak. I forget everything that gives anything meaning. The people that I loved more than myself are floating around me like condemned spirits. I've been starting to see their faces; It's the walls, and with every scream that rings over the sea around us, I hear them: my friends. Their faces are starting to blur when I close my eyes. It's terrifying.

I'm becoming demented and disturbed, and it's all because of the dementors. I hate them.

I deserve to be here. If I'd be let free today I would beg to be let back in. I would crawl on my hands and knees and kiss their shoes if only to have the punishment I deserve. If it weren't for me, my friends would be alive. The wizarding world would have been happy and safe, Voldemort would've been defeated, and I wouldn't be alive to bear the burden I do now. I wish I didn't have to die this way. I can already see it make the cover of the newspapers: 'Harry James Potter', the cruel and insane wizard has been killed during his life-sentence in Azkaban. Not a soul on this earth will mourn his death. They might even make a holiday out of my death. Ha.

I didn't want to let anybody down, but I dropped the ball, so severely I virtually dropped a muggle bomb. Now, I'll willing wither away at the lips of the bones wrapped in ratted up black cloaks. It's only fair.

…

They told me that I would never receive the Kiss. I believed them. I didn't deserve an end so… easy. I believed the officials because there was nothing else to believe. Their solution for the world's ravenous hunger for retribution was obvious; lock me up with dementors and let me die slowly. So when the dementors began getting closer than what's usually aloud, I became shaken. My hair's now long and ratty while my skin has sunken in, now sagging on my brittle bones. My eyes have gone bleary and the worlds becoming one; I hope I can join the world soon. No, the dementors won't give you the privilege of a Kiss, they said. So the day that I played boneless and crumpled in the corner of my stone cot while a single dementor slipped through the walls. Whatever slivers of hope I'd managed to retain turned rotten in an instant. A pulsing throbbed through my throat and a tight coil nestled itself against the bottom of my stomach. Vision blurred, I swayed, unable to remain steady. Left, right, up-down, my neck was weak, and I couldn't keep it stable. The voices whispering in my brain grew to a raging roar, and I threw my hands on my ears, nearly suffocating myself. The faces on the walls took form, and all I could do was accept it.

I hate it, I hate it, stop, stop it. Make it go away, get it away from me.

The fuzzy image of a bony hand reaching towards me became nearer.

Killer! Screamed the wall.

You bastard… Hissed the floor.

I'm sorry, I thought.

"You're a funny thing…"

Bloody Hell, thank Godric you're gonna be dead, cackled the red-stained brick.

I never meant it! It wasn't my fault—It never was! I struggled to get my head back up.

"Funny; yes. You're funny."

I can't get up. My back and bones are made of needles, and I can't get my muscles to be their thread. I can't stay steady; my hands, dirty and nothing but bones, are shaking with a tremor worthy of an earthquake. Nothing. I don't know. But I do, I know what fear tastes like. It's bitter on my dry desert tongue and its like acid while I try to swallow it down. My eyes won't move. The crumbled ceiling above tells me all I'd ever need to know; and I that I care for now it the darkness closing in above me. The dementor is getting closer.

"You smell… Delicious."

STop, stoP, stops, get awAY.

Bones pulled at my chin and lifted my head with ease. It flopped my head from side to side.

I can't anymore; kill it, go, no more.

"Hm. You're not made out to be a full meal, are you?"

I can't move, can't move, can't move.

The hand snapped my head forward, towards its own. Its face was nothing more than a black blob with all that I could see.

"Harrryy Potter. I've heard of you, creature. We've been told extraordinary things about you; the Dealers have whispered behind walls that you are just as… kind as our kind. But that's not true, is it? Ỳ̵̢̡̬̞̺ọ̷̡͚͋͗̔̒̓̾̇͆̒͝u̴̢̧̨̗͎̟̥̝͈̫͐̔̀̓͌̉̚͝'̸̨̳̹̭̿̒̾̋̄͜r̷̨̹͉̗̺͚̘̊̽̌̈̓̿̇͜ę̴̨̛̮̬̖̼̜̳̜͈̍̐̀͗̇̃͐ ̸̡̠̠͋̌̆́̃̐͋͘b̷̧̞̺͈͂̉̍e̶̜̿͑̄̓̅̕a̶͍̫̖͖͔̝͍̣̔̂͠ṵ̵̘͚̼̗̳͒̔̔̈́̊̿̄̽ţ̴̖̘̘̥͉̩̫̣̇̈͊̾̒̿̓̾̈́͘ͅi̷̛͉̿̈́̂̚͝͠f̶̼͍͔̯͓͔͓̅̊͊͆̊͂̚ù̸̫͖̫̟͐͑̈́̈́͐l̵̠̥͛͋́̾̈́̐͗͂̕ͅ.̶̭̜̉͆

The blur got closer, and everything became clear. Under the hood was every horror I've seen. The jaws of Nagii, the eyes of you-know-who. The bubbling blood spilling from Hermionie's lips. No wizard or architect could perfect the perfect, horrible, dark slopes of its skull. Its mouth ate at my soul. Unlike usual, I didn't pass out. I had not more visions that those that I had before. It was just me and the dementor at this moment.

"There would be no consequences, would there? I could take your lips in mine and steal what's left of your soul. Would you enjoy that? Death, ah, yes. I can smell it on your skin. It's what you want more than life, hmm; you're funny."

A vibration stole my nerves, and all nervousness was purged from my veins.

"You and me, creature. We'd be perfect. I could take you away and never return you. You'd never touch Heaven or Hell, and we could be one forever. Ỉ̴̢̻̤́̂́̾̉̿͐̌ ̸͙̳͍͚́ĺ̵̡͙̤̼̣̜̉o̸̢̯̱̼̮̙̒̀̀̈́́ͅṽ̸̢̰͖̻͈̄ͅͅẽ̵̗͚͎͉̪͛̂̔̾̈́̽̐̅̕ͅ to hate, and you hate to love. We would b̷̧̛̠̳̞͔̗͖̃̈́̐͂͆̿̇̍͗ͅe̵͕̱͕͍̟̝̽͜ ̶̡̩͎̪̩̫̝̱̪̍̈́͂̚͜g̵̢̛̬̦̯͚̓̌͑͋͒̀́̈́́͜l̴̨̰͕͚͓̠̣̉̀̀̈͜o̷̤͉̜̞͓̠͙̜͎͊̽͒͜͝r̶̰̮̲͛̐̈́̒͊̍̚i̵̠͙̬̠͖͗́̄̊͂͘͝ȍ̵̧̘̰̤̕͜͝u̵̗͔͓͂̚ṡ̶͚̞̳͚̰̫͍͌͂́̑̅̈́̕. Let met̶͓̜̗̭͈͊͊͠ą̶̛̬̦͈͓̪̄̆̈́͒̚ͅk̶̨̯̬͕͔̄̅̿ȅ̵̛̱̎̽̃͗̀̏̕͠ ̷̜͓̖̖̻͉̗͎̇́̊̽͜͜͝͝y̸̖̠̐̓̌͐̔̀̚͝ǒ̵͖͓̗̘̦͇̾̀̉̑̏̓̽̕͜u̸̪̩̝͕̯͖̇͘ ̷̡̞͎̖̱͛̍̏̿̒͘à̷̙̈́̏̅̀̈́̾͝w̶̱͌͒̅͋͝a̴͎̦̣̯͙̹͌̂̒y̴̹̹̻̹̘͝.̴̳̲̀̎͒̓̇͗̅͌̎̾"

A harsh, ear bludgeoning cackle left its hallowed teeth.

"L̸̡͙̜̯̖͚̻̳̃̄̇̒͛͋̉́̃ē̶̘̿͒́̓̃͐́t̵̨͕̺͇̘͛̐̔̀͗́͒̚ ̸̳̍̋̆͠ͅü̵̧͇͎̥̻s̷̢̝̺̲͚͔̿̅̑ be love."

"I hate you."

Its other boned hand took my face in its freezing hold.

"And for that, I̷̤͖̿̋̂'̴̦̣͍̝̤͌͌l̷͕̠̣̻̯̆̀̈̏͌́̓̕͜l̷̨͖̤̺͉̩̲̮͆ love ỷ̷̛̖͈͐̈́̒̾͛ō̴̬̹̻̯̲͉u̶͇͔͇͛͆̀̍̋͌̃̈̕͠."

And so we Kissed.

...

**Author's Note:**

> It's funny how fate works. 
> 
> \- Rose


End file.
